With a thunderous boom, that tightly shut door was swept open by a burst of palm force.

The door panels rattled and banged violently, very nearly frightening Yu Jingfeng out of his wits where he stood beside it.

“Your Highness…”

Before Yu Jingfeng could even react, Feng Jiu’er had already moved like a gust of wind, flying past him and charging into the room.

Inside the bedchamber, the man stood by the large bed with one hand gripping the carved wooden bedpost, his fingers clutching it tight.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” Feng Jiu’er burst in — and the moment she raised her head, she saw fresh blood welling at the corner of Zhan Qingcheng’s lips, colorless and stark.

Damn it all. Her provocation just now had actually made him so furious he spat blood.

In this moment, Feng Jiu’er nearly despised herself enough to slap her own face twice — why had she been so thoughtless?

She had known full well that Ninth Imperial Uncle was already injured, and yet she had gone and provoked him further.

She had only wanted to get inside and see him — she had never imagined she would agitate him to this degree.

Seeing the Prince spit blood, Yu Jingfeng was nearly frantic himself: “Your Highness…”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er rushed forward and caught hold of his tall, imposing frame. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, lie down first.”

“Lie down — so you can run off to see Zhan Yuheng?” Zhan Qingcheng’s breathing was ragged, even his voice coming out hoarser than usual.

“No — I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here with Ninth Imperial Uncle.”

Feng Jiu’er shot Yu Jingfeng a look. Yu Jingfeng came back to his senses at once and stepped forward to help her support Zhan Qingcheng, easing him back against the headboard.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, let me take your pulse.” Feng Jiu’er reached to take his hand.

Zhan Qingcheng was still in a sulk and pulled his hand away.

Yu Jingfeng, seeing things going poorly, hastily said, “Your Highness, this subordinate will go and fetch the physician at once.”

“Get out.”

“Your Highness…”

“All of you — get out!” Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze turned dark. The flare of fury sent blood and energy churning within his chest, and he nearly spat another mouthful of blood then and there.

“You go out first — I am a physician myself. I can treat him.” Feng Jiu’er turned to look at Yu Jingfeng, urgency in her voice. “Go out, and trust me!”

Yu Jingfeng had no choice but to trust her now. The Prince refused to see any physician, and even if he summoned every physician in the entire manor, it would do no good.

What was more, the matter of the Prince being afflicted with Gu Poison was absolutely not something that could be let known carelessly.

The Ghost Doctor had gone to the southern frontier on account of his Gu Poison and had yet to return, which meant there was currently no one in the manor capable of treating the Prince.

This was, after all, no ordinary illness.

So as not to further anger the Prince, Yu Jingfeng quickly went out and closed the door behind him.

Feng Jiu’er looked at Zhan Qingcheng — blood still seeping from the corner of his lips — and the ache in her heart was nearly unbearable.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, let me apply the needles first to suppress the poison. Once you are better, you may punish me however you see fit — I will not breathe a single word of complaint. Will that do?”

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. Feng Jiu’er immediately reached for his hand. He moved to pull away — but this time the resistance was nowhere near as strong as before.

Jiu’er’s heart leaped with quiet hope. She seized his hand firmly, and her fingertips settled on his pulse point.

This pulse reading… it was enough to worry her to death.

Within moments she drew her fingers back, took out the needle case she always kept on her, and was just about to withdraw a silver needle.

Without warning, her hand was suddenly caught in his grip.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” Jiu’er was startled. She looked up and met his gaze — glacially cold, yet smoldering with barely contained fury.

“Did he…” Zhan Qingcheng’s deeply sculpted brows furrowed, his eyes locked on her face with fierce intensity. The blood and energy in his chest surged again, and another thread of blood crept from the corner of his lips.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, please don’t speak yet — don’t disturb your energy flow. Let me—” But he still held her wrist in an iron grip. “Did he… did he do to you the kind of thing described in books?”